Baby, Don't You Break My Heart Slow
by PinkGemz27
Summary: Originally a post-ep7 one shot that's run on a little. Spoilers for series 3. Rated M for safety due to strong language in Chapter 1 but probably a T-rating.
1. Chapter 1

**A short, angsty one-shot drabble from Gene's POV, following on from the end of ep 7, so spoilers for that. I'm pretty unspoiled for ep8 so there shouldn't be any spoilers in here but there's a chance I may have been unconsciously influence by the ep8 trailer.**

**This fic is named after a Vonda Shepherd song from Ally McBeal, the lyrics of which gave me some inspiration, however this isn't a songfic.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes, the BBC, Kudos and Monastic do. If I did, Keats would never have shown up at Alex's flat in ep 7.**

Baby, Don't You Break My Heart Slow

Bloody Sam Tyler. He who'd come waltzing into the Manc Lion's kingdom acting king of the jungle. As he'd told Alex, he'd learnt more from Sam than anyone else he'd ever met, he'd become a better man and a better copper for it, yet it was this same man who'd set him on the path that looked destined to bring his world crashing down around him.

Less than an hour ago, he'd dared to hope it all might be ok, that things might be on the up. He'd dared to believe that the woman he loved (yes, loved, he couldn't get away from the fact) might actually feel the same way.

The look in her eyes as he'd moved to kiss her, the breathiness of her voice as she'd told him to wait in the bedroom told him that it was about more than just sex, more than love even. It was about her trusting him. About them having a connection.

What a fool he'd been. He'd done plenty of stupid things for her, his appearance on _Police 5_ being the most embarrassing and he'd tried to show he the man he was, let his guard down, yet still, she didn't trust him.

As he'd crept back into the living room looking for her, he'd let the thought cross his mind that she was in the bathroom, that she'd appear, clad in silk and lace, all come-to-bed eyes, pure lust and desire. Yet as quickly as he'd indulged that fantasy, reality kicked in and he saw her coat was gone and the door was still open.

She'd proved that she didn't trust him, that she'd believe that slimy bastard Keats over him. _"If you don't believe me, what's the point?" _His words from earlier echoing in his head, Gene had stalked out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.

Arriving at his office, he'd headed straight for his filing cabinet. Gene Hunt believed there were only three things in life that were certain; death, taxes and whisky. Two of them left you in the shit, but the third could always be relied upon. During times of joy, sorrow, hurt and love, whisky would stoke or numb the emotions, whatever you wanted.

Pouring himself a large measure, he raised the glass to his lips but stopped when the woody, smoky aroma engulfed his senses. The last time he'd smelt it, he was preparing for their 'date' seven hours earlier.

His stomach has been doing somersaults as he'd washed his face, hands shaking as he'd drawn the razor across his face, fingers fumbling as he'd tried to knot his tie. It had all been for nothing; she'd gone and left him anyway. Like his wife, like Sam.

He slammed the glass back down on the desk, contents untouched, stood up and gave his wastepaper bin a good hard kick. It did nothing to release his anger and frustration, so he kicked the filing cabinet, slammed his fist on top of it and let out a noise that could only be described as primal, before eventually pulling it out of position and heaving it across the floor of his office. Giving it one last kick for good measure, he looked up to see Keats standing in the middle of CID.

"Well, well, well, the mighty Gene Hunt is losing his touch. Taking it out on the office furniture instead of someone in custody? Seems you might be learning."

It took all of Gene's composure not to land one on the D&C officer, after all, he was part of the reason Alex had left so abruptly, why she didn't trust him even after he'd told her the truth.

"Oh I know everything I need to know, Jimbo. So why don't you just piss off to the furnace you call an office and check your blessed report for spelling mistakes?"

"She doesn't want you, Gene. She's seen you for the man you really are. A corrupt individual, who covers up murders and hurts those closest to him."

"You know what, Jimbo? I don't give a shit anymore. You can file your little report based on lies and speculation. You might take me down and get me pensioned off but at least I'll be able to wake up every day knowing there's a good number of murderers and nonces not on the street to prey on the innocent. That's down to me and my team. What the fuck have you ever done?"

"Sad thing, denial, Gene. When I've finished, you won't even be a footnote in the history of Fenchurch East, let alone the legend you've tried to make yourself." Keats smirked as he swept out of the squad room, leaving Gene looking around despondently.

Keats's words hurt because they were true. Alex didn't want him, if she did, she'd have trusted him in the first place and not doubted him when he told her the truth. He still couldn't understand what could have made her run out though. One minute she was looking at him, her eyes dark with desire, telling him to wait in the bedroom, the next she was gone.

Behind the bedroom door, Gene hadn't been able to hear who had interrupted them, he'd heard Alex tell whoever it was it wasn't a good time, yet why hadn't she just shut the door in their face?

Pacing up and down the squad room, Gene tried in vain to think about what could have made her run out like that, she hadn't even shut the door. Hell, was she coming back? Maybe he should have waited a little longer. You idiot, Gene. She could be over there right now, thinking what a bastard you are for running out on her. She might have only nipped across the road and here you are, thinking the worst of her.

Surely she'd had said though, and what could she have possibly needed to go out for? No, something had spooked her and she'd changed her mind. Gene slumped in his chair, needing to think. Opening his desk drawer, he decided to try the whisky again but this time from his hip flask, hoping to avoid the peaty aroma which had set his mind whirring before.

Reaching into the drawer he felt around for the one he knew he kept there, finding it lodged right at the back behind the tin box that had rest there ever since he'd been at Fenchurch East. Pulling the box out of the way, Gene noticed the lid had come loose. It seemed odd, as far as he could remember he hadn't opened it the whole time he'd been in London.

Opening it, it soon became apparent that while he may not have opened it, someone else had. The box was empty.

"Shit," muttered Gene as the penny dropped. He sat stock still, trying to take in the realisation that not only had she been through his desk, looking for evidence against him, but that she'd taken that evidence and run off with it, not even bothering to talk to him about it first.

Normally, Gene would have chucked the box across the room, kicked his filing cabinet and headed off to some backstreet pub to drink himself to oblivion. This wasn't normal, though. It dawned on Gene that he couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep putting himself through the hurt and shame of letting her in, only to find no matter what he did, she simply couldn't trust him.

Gene wasn't a man to talk about his feelings, most of the time he avoided acknowledging them, yet he knew that every time he let her close to him and she threw it back at him, it felt like someone was cutting a tiny bit deeper into his heart. Not enough to kill him in one go but enough to cause him to die a slow painful death. She was taking his heart, his feelings and breaking them, slowly but surely, piece by piece. He'd given up the thought a long time ago that all it would take to get her out of his head was a drunken shag or an earth-shattering blow-job. She weakened him and there was no way it could go on like this.

Lifting his hipflask to his lips and swallowing the contents in one go, Gene stood up. He knew what he had to do, find Alex, have it out with her once and for all, try and sort this stupid mess out. If they couldn't, well, then Keats was right, the time was up, they couldn't go on working together, something had to give.

Slamming the drawer shut, picking up the box and sliding it into his jacket pocket, he strode out of his office and across the squad room. He was about to open the door, when something on her desk caught his eye. He turned towards his and pushed the papers on it to one side to reveal the numbers carved into its surface 6-6-20.

"Enough's enough, Bolly. Time for the truth." He said aloud to himself.

"Tell me then, Gene." The voice came from behind him.

Slowly looking up, he saw her standing in the doorway behind Shaz's desk. She didn't look angry, or like she'd been crying but she certainly didn't look happy.

Meeting her gaze, Gene felt his stomach do an involuntary flip and he took a deep breath.

"You'd better step into my office, Inspector."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter.**

**For Lisa-McG-200413 and artemis, who requested I continue this. I hadn't intended on writing another chapter for this, but after their kind words I decided to have a go. **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Ashes to Ashes; it is still the property of Kudos, Monastic and the BBC.**

Alex stood frozen in the doorway, clutching the photographs. Keats had left a few moments earlier, though she had barely noticed, so consumed was she by the wave of bewilderment, horror and confusion. _Looks like we found our grave._ His words reverberated in her head. It couldn't be, could it?

Her throat felt dry, constricted, like she couldn't breathe. All she knew was that she had to get out of there, had to get some air. On autopilot, she grabbed her coat and walked out of the door, not bothering to close it behind her.

The cold night air felt like pinpricks on her face, numbing her skin, as she hurried down the alley, not paying attention to where she was going, completely devoid of coherent thought, the photographs still in her hand. She didn't know how long she'd been walking for when she reached the river, it may have been minutes, could have been hours. Stopping at the railings and looking over, down into the water, she gasped, taking a huge lungful of air, as she tried to quell the nausea in her stomach and hold back the tears that she knew would come like a flood. It was futile, as she let out an almighty sob before sinking to the ground in tears, crying for herself, for Sam, for the daughter she feared she'd never see again.

All cried out, Alex looked around her, there was no-one. Not a single soul. As she had often felt in this world, she was alone.

For the first time since she had left her flat, she looked down at the photographs, hastily placing the one of the farmhouse at the back of the pile, in the same way that she tried to put the thought of what it might mean to the back of her mind. Instead she focussed on the one of Sam and Annie, looking at their smiling faces, willing them to give her some inkling as to what she should do.

"What really happened to you, Sam? Is this really why I'm here? If I find out what happened, can I get home to Molly?" she whispered, a silent tear tracking its way down her cheek and onto the photo.

The next photo was of Ray and Gene, standing by a Ford Cortina. They both looked happy, certainly happier than Alex had ever seen them, like neither of them had a care in the world. She realised how much Gene must have changed since Sam. Despite what Litton had said about him going soft, the 80s Gene Hunt was harder. He'd had to be. And yet, she doubted that 70s Gene was as tender as his 80s self. Tender, a word she never thought she would associate with Gene. Alex had come to learn that he was many things, a mass of contradictions. Hard as nails, yet caring; honest, yet evasive.

It was his evasiveness that had led her down this path. His refusal to give her the answers she so desperately needed. He'd burned evidence, obstructed her investigation, yet the question still burned in Alex's mind; could he really have killed his best friend? All the evidence seemed to point that way and yet Alex couldn't help but think it had to be a terrible mistake, a misunderstanding.

The Gene she knew was loyal, strong and despite appearances, had strong principles. He wasn't a killer. Earlier that evening, he'd looked her in the eye and told her he hadn't killed Sam, that he'd helped him fake his own death. At that moment, she knew he was telling the truth, knew what it had taken for him to open up to her. The hurt in his eyes when he talked about faith, how she hadn't learnt it yet; he was right and wrong at the same time. She had doubted him for weeks, after all, he'd done everything in his power to stop her finding out what had happened to Sam. She'd seen him at his most angry, kicking and punching, and knew that he was, at least physically, capable of killing a man. But when he'd told her he didn't do it, she believed him, because she really _did _have faith in him, knew that up against the wire he could be relied upon to do the right thing. That was why she'd uttered that cheesy cliché, deadly serious; she wanted to show him that she believed him, more than that even, that they were a partnership.

If she was honest with herself, she'd known for weeks, months even, that what she felt for him was more than just concern for a colleague or friend. No matter how much she'd tried to deny it to herself, she'd fallen for him, hook, line and sinker and now, well, she just didn't know what she felt.

It would have been so easy to ignore the knocking at the door, to let the evening run its course and wake up in Gene's arms. Yet something inside her told her she had to answer it. As much as she wanted to believe she had answered it to address the interruption so that the rest of the night could be perfect, inside she knew that for what ever reason she just had to. She'd wasted enough time in this world distracted from her purpose, that after three years she still hadn't found a way home to Molly and that she should take any possible chance to get back. Whatever her feelings for Gene, first and foremost she was a mother, separated from her child and she was needed elsewhere to a far greater degree.

Prior to Keats knocking on her door, Alex knew how she wanted the night to go, and it seemed that for once, she and Gene were on the same page. The feel of his lips on her forehead was so soft, so tender, words she never thought she'd use to describe Gene Hunt. The way he'd looked into her eyes as she'd lifted her head; she'd seen desire there certainly but something more, something that transcended the mere physical attraction that had existed between them since the day they'd met. To call it love didn't seem enough somehow, in that moment, it felt like only the two of them existed and the rest of the world simply fell away. It was all she could muster to tell him to wait in the bedroom while she answered the door.

_Which is where he may still be, wondering where the hell you are,_ she thought to herself. The recollection seemed to shake her out of the haze of bewilderment she had felt ever since Keats had given her the photographs and Alex knew she had to go and find Gene, to salvage whatever was left between them and hopefully, to discover once and for all what had happen to Sam Tyler.

Finding herself back at the flat, she found the door closed and that she'd locked herself out in her haste to leave. Hesitating for a moment, she took a deep breath and knocked on the door. No answer. She pressed her ear against the door but all seemed still inside. Luigi's had long since closed and its owner had gone to bed and Alex was reluctant to wake him up to let her back in. She knew Gene wouldn't be there anyway. As petulant and infuriating as he could be, he wasn't the kind of man to lock her out of her own flat. There was only one place he could be.

Turning on her heel, Alex made her way down the stairs and back into the night. Crossing the road and walking the few hundred yards to the station, she realised she had no idea where to start and no idea what kind of mood Gene would be in. He wouldn't be best pleased, of course, but would he shout and rage at her, give her the silent treatment or had he already drunk himself into oblivion. She hoped it would be the former, at least then she might stand a chance of being able to deal with him, bounce off his reactions. Something told her that was too much to hope for, that whatever he'd done in the past, Gene's pride would be severely dented and it was highly likely he would want to see her at all.

As she entered the station, she was about to take the normal route to the main doors of the squad room before thinking better of it. She wanted a chance to observe him, to gauge his mood before he could just walk away. Slipping quietly in the side door, she saw him storming out of his office and across the room, before stopping at her desk and peering at the carving in its surface.

When he spoke, Alex heard none of the venom or hurt she had expected, only despair and frustration.

"Enough's enough, Bolly. Time for the truth."

"Tell me then, Gene." She heard the words before she realised she had said them.

He looked up at her, eyes questioning, as though he was trying to read her. She hesitated, waiting for him to storm off or yell at her. He did neither.

"You'd better step into my office, Inspector."

**I hope it was up to scratch. I think there's another chapter in this, but in light of the finale, it's likely to be quite AU. **

**Please review. x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Apologies for the significant delay in this chapter. My inspiration disappeared for a while and I found myself backed into a corner for possible routes to take this. Anyway, enough wittering, please read on and review.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I still do not own Ashes to Ashes.**

Gene motioned for Alex to go into his office. She nodded and stepped towards the door. They simultaneously took a deep breath, both trying to comprehend the gravity of the conversation they were about to have. However charged the atmosphere had been in Alex's flat several hours earlier, it was more than twice as heightened now. The uncertainty hung between them like a mist as Alex stood in front of the desk, waiting for Gene assume his usual position behind it. As he did so, Alex raised her head and looked at him, straight in the eye. A rush of emotions, fear, guilt and anger coursed through her veins and she could see from his expression he felt the same. He looked lost, rejected and yet defiant at the same time. Usually Alex would have opened her mouth and begun to rant by now, yet sensing his feeling of rejection, she stopped, knowing she had to let him speak, put him back in control of the situation.

Gene, meanwhile, was weighing up where to start, how to start. Normally, she'd be mid-rant by now; it was disconcerting to him that she'd said nothing since entering his office. God, he needed a drink. He felt in his jacket pocket for the hip flask he'd swigged from earlier, instead pulling out the tin box that had once contained the film roll. He placed it on the desk, opened it and looked at her. Alex couldn't read his expression; surely if he was angry, he'd have exploded by now? She looked at the box, her gaze slowly rising to reach Gene's eyes and seeing expectation, weariness, disappointment yet defiance reflected in them.

"Gene, I..." She cut off, had no idea what to say.

"You should have come to me, Alex. We were supposed to trust each other," his voice was level but Alex detected his dejection and hurt.

"I did come to you. I asked you about Sam but you just closed off, shut me out. What was I supposed to think? I believed you tonight, I still believe you when you say you didn't kill him but by then it was too late, I'd already...already..."

She motioned towards the box, overcome with emotion and regret, breathing deeply, trying to quell the sobs that threatened to burst through the dam of her composure. Gene was torn, torn between wanting to scoop her into his arms, kiss her and tell her it would all be ok and wanting to shake her, rant and rave and hurt her like she'd hurt him. In the end, he did neither, knowing both would amount to the same thing; papering over the many tiny cracks in their relationship, ignoring their true feelings and carrying on as they had been.

"I can't keep doing this," he said out loud, as if answering the voice in his head. "I let you in, Alex, let you get under my skin and I just can't do this anymore."

As much as she wanted to disagree with him, Alex couldn't. Everything he said was true; she had let him down more times than he had her, in fact she couldn't remember a single time when he had let her down. Yet she had worked against him, hidden things from him and yet still expected his unwavering honesty. She felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Gene." Her words sounded hollow as they rang in her ears. The tiny word didn't seem enough somehow, yet there was nothing else to say. If only she could tell him, show him how much he meant to her, how much she respected and admired him. How much she had wanted tonight to be the start of something instead of the end. Then she remembered.

Gene couldn't believe it when she turned and walked out into the squad room. Surely she didn't think that was it? Maybe he'd been right all along, she didn't care about him at all. He allowed her to wrap him around her little finger and now she was going to toss him on the scrapheap that their relationship had become. Finally locating his hip flask, he took a long sip and started to make towards his coat stand. If she was walking away, then so was he. Glancing through the glass of his office, he watched her rummage through the bottom drawer of her desk, the one where she had hidden Sam's jacket. Gene felt simultaneous rage and guilt as he recollected her sneaking around behind his back and then his own actions, breaking into her desk during the night.

Reaching into the back of her drawer, Alex felt around for the bundle of letters she had written the previous year. Gene's was easy to find, the only one not dog-eared and ripped open. She held it between her fingers, turning it over pensively. She really had nothing to fear by giving it to him; he'd either believe that she did actually trust him, or he'd throw it back in her face. The latter was possible but given the current state of their relationship, it barely mattered. Breathing deeply, she walked back across the room to his office.

Gene had his back to her when she returned, staring out of the window, through the vertical blinds that gave his office an impenatrable, cell-like quality. Hearing her footsteps halt as she stopped in front of his desk, he slowly turned around, greeted with the sight of her forlorn expression and outstretched hand.

"Read it," she said simply, offering him the letter.

Gene eyed the letter suspiciously, before taking it and turning it over in his hands. He wanted to read it but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to open it.

"What's the point, Alex? You wrote this a year ago, times have changed."

"Just read it. I'm going to make some tea. If you still want to talk when you've read it then come and find me." With that, Alex stalked off to the kitchen.

Releasing a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, Gene slumped down in his chair and slid the letter opener along the seam of the envelope. He pulled out the letter, unfolded it and began to read.

_Dear Gene_

_If you are reading this, then I must have found my way home. Hopefully I had time to say goodbye, but if I didn't, I'm sorry. Now that I've gone you deserve to know the truth about me. You probably won't believe me, call me a fruitcake, but hand on heart, this really is the truth of how I ended up in your world._

_I am Alex Price, the little girl who saw her parent blown up in front of her, in the car bomb set by Arthur Layton. Twenty-seven years later, in 2008, Layton found me and decided to try and finish the job. He shot me in the head on a barge in the Thames and left me for dead. The next thing I knew I was waking up in 1981, dressed as a prostitute._

_I've spent a lot of time here fighting against you, thinking I had to defeat you in order to wake up in 2008 and take care of my daughter. I was wrong, I just needed to be patient, bide my time, wait for them to find me and treat me. _

_Over time, you've become my constant, my rock, my anchor in this world. I trust you completely and admire you immensely. I've got a life here that I've never had the chance to have in 2008 and if there was a way that I could merge your world with mine, have you and Molly both with me, then I would._

_Because in truth, Gene, I love you._

_If you've read this far, then by now you must be thinking I'm even more of a fruitcake than you ever thought possible. Maybe I am, but Gene, you are the only person I've ever been able to rely on, the only one who's never let me down and it tears me up to think that once I leave, I'll never see you again._

_Sam told me about your boorish, sexist, arrogant ways, yet both he and I could see that underneath all the bravado is a good, decent man and an amazing copper. There is no advice I can give you, Gene (not that you'd take any notice anyway!) other than this: please don't change. Continue to stand up and fight for justice for those who couldn't get it for themselves and hold back those tides of scum. Who knows, Gene, maybe someday, we'll find each other again._

_Until that day, yours forever,_

_Alex_

_X_

It wasn't until he noticed the one solitary teardrop fall onto the paper, smudging the kiss under her name, that Gene realised he was truly moved by Alex's words. If she didn't trust him, then why would she have given it to him? She'd said she loved him.

"She loves me," he whispered. Or at least she had, before he'd called her cold, an awful mother and then shot her. Yet if she loved him, why did she think he'd killed Sam? Why did she have to go snooping around in old files, his desk? He'd told her over and over again, the past was best left alone, the present is what matters. The rage that had sat in the pit of his stomach for as long as he could remember bubbled up inside him. He was angry with Alex, for playing him for so long, for making a fool out of him and weakening him. He was also angry at himself, for letting himself be weakened, for giving her the ammunition she needed. Most of all, he was angry that she'd loved him as long as he'd loved her and neither of them had be brave enough to speak up.

Glancing up from the page, his eyes settled on the tin box, still on his desk. Fragments of long-forgotten memories and conversations glittered in the far reaches of his mind.

"_Get one in for me an' all, Tyler" "It'll be waiting for you, Guv"_

Sam. Sam had given him the box, the night he left. He couldn't remember why or how, just that was when it had happened. He knew what he had to do.

Alex waited for the kettle to boil and poured the steaming liquid into her mug. Stirring absent-mindedly, she sat down and contemplated Gene's reaction. She'd narrowed it down to three possible outcomes; one, he would rip her letter to pieces and leave without another word; two, he'd read it, dismiss it and leave; three, he'd read it, think she was playing him and come in here all guns blazing. Despite feeling weary and unsure if she could cope with an almighty Gene Hunt rage, she hoped for the latter because at least then she would know he cared. Sipping her tea, she sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. It had been a long night and it was set to get even longer.

**Hope that was ok, one more chapter to come. xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, this is the final chapter. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed and my profuse apologies for taking so long to get there.**

**Disclaimer: Despite my best efforts, I still do not own Ashes to Ashes. **

Alex tensed as she heard the footsteps come closer, trying to gauge Gene's mood from the sound of his boots on the floortiles. Brisk but not erratic, perhaps he wasn't angry; she hadn't heard his office door slam. As she heard him cross the carpeted area between the squad room and the kitchen, she took a deep breath and looked towards the doorway.

As he turned into the kitchen, Gene saw her sitting at the table, a serious yet expectant expression on her face. In the thirty seconds or so it had taken him to reach the kitchen, he had formulated exactly what he wanted to say. He just hoped she was willing to hear it.

"I told you the truth, Alex. Sam asked me to help him and I did. You made me feel like a fool. One minute, you're looking at me with those come-to-bed eyes, the next, I'm alone in your flat, 'cause you've buggered off without a word."

Looking at the despair in Gene's face, Alex realised that this was as much about her betraying him by doubting him, as it was about a wounded ego and desperate need to be in control. She knew she had to choose her words carefully but she needed to know how that film had come to be in his desk and what it represented.

"I believe you, Gene. I believed you when you told me. I just don't understand, the photos, the grave. It was all too much; I just needed some space to collect my thoughts."

At the word 'grave' Gene's ears pricked up. What was she talking about?

"Alex, what was in that box?"

Alex looked at him astonished. How could he not know what was in that box? It was in his desk, it belonged to him, he must know what was in there. The look of confusion in his eyes contradicted her thoughts and she reached into her pocket, pulling out the envelope of photographs that Keats had brought her earlier, sliding it across the table towards Gene. He contemplated it for a few moments before placing his hand on top of it and looking Alex straight in the eye.

"Before I look in there, I need to tell you how that box ended up in my desk."

"Gene..."

"Don't, Alex, just let me tell you."

Gene took the seat next to her and placed his hands one on top of the other. Alex placed one of her hands on top of his, tracing circles lightly across his knuckles, letting him know he could take his time.

"I told you that I helped Sam fake his own death, and it's true, I did, but that's not the end of the story. You see, after it was done, Sam said he wanted to meet for one last drink. I knew it was a risk to meet 'im but 'e was the best mate I'd ever 'ad. I cleared out 'is locker at the station and went to meet 'im somewhere on the outskirts of Manchester. I waited in the car and sure enough, 'e showed up..."

"_Guv, I..."_

"_If you're coming over all Dorothy, Tyler, I really don't wanna hear it. Yer stuff's in the back if you want it."_

"_Thanks, Guv. I'm sorry you had to be involved in this."_

"_I'm not going to try and change yer mind, Sam. I don't understand why you've had to do this, but I trust you. Who'd've thought it, eh? A picky pain in the arse like you, needing 'elp from me. Bet it hurt you to have to ask."_

_Sam smiled wryly. "I want to tell you the truth, Guv, but you'll find out eventually, in your own time. When you do, this might come in handy."_

_Gene looked at Sam for the first time since he'd got into the car, then stared down at the tiny patterned tin box in Sam's hands._

"_Bit girly for me, Sam. Kinda thing the missus buys for the mantelpiece."_

"_Sorry about that, Guv. But it's the contents that are important. Take it, put it somewhere safe and when the day comes, you'll know and open it."_

_Gene looked sceptical but took the box from Sam and put in the inside pocket of his jacket, a place usually reserved for his hipflask. Sam made to get out of the car._

"_You comin' in, Guv?" Sam inclined his head towards the pub behind him, which Gene noticed was also called The Railway Arms, just like their local. A strange feeling took him over, a force that seemed to hold him down in his seat. He couldn't follow Sam into the pub yet._

"_In a minute, Tyler."_

_Sam got out of the car and shut the door. He started to walk away in the direction of the pub. Gene leaned over to the passenger window and opened it, calling out to Sam as he did._

"_Get one in for me an' all, Tyler" _

_Sam turned and grinned back at him. "It'll be waiting for you, Guv"_

"And you never saw him again?"

Gene looked down at their hands, her pale, perfect skin contrasting with the roughness of his own. He shook his head.

"No. I never did go into that pub. I just couldn't. I can't explain why. It was like this other force just stopped me. Christ, I sound like a right crackpot. Too much time spent with you and Tyler, I think."

Alex gave him a watery half-smile and shook her head.

"It makes sense to me, Gene. I wish you'd told me this before. Maybe we could have worked out what's going on here together."

Gene contemplated her words for a moment, a strange sensation washing over him as he did, as if he was trying to remember a dream. Fragments of memories danced in the back of his mind and he felt an overwhelming energy run through him, as if it was emanating from the envelope beneath his fingers.

"Alex, what you said in your letter, about being from the future. I'm sorry I got so angry before, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I mean, it's impossible, isn't it? But I do believe you, now, I mean, right this minute."

A single tear rolled down Alex's cheek as she reached out to cup his face.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Gene gently wiped her tear away, wanting to take her into his arms there and then and hold her until the rest of the world just fell away. That would have to wait, however, until they'd got to the bottom of the riddle Sam had left him with. _Bloody Tyler_, he thought, not for the first time that evening. Tearing his eyes away from hers, Gene looked down at the envelope on the table in front of him. Inhaling deeply, he picked it up and gently pulled back the ragged edge, reached inside and pulled out the photographs. He didn't dare look at them for a moment, hesitating, glancing at Alex and then returning to the photographs.

He smiled as he saw the faces of Sam and Annie smiling back at him, himself, Sam, Chris and Ray beside the Cortina, back in the days when he'd felt at ease in his kingdom, surrounded by his unshakeably loyal team. As he worked his way through the photographs, he finally came to the farmhouse. It was familiar to him, but he didn't know why, the forgotten dream still hovering at the back of his mind.

"I know this place." Gene's voice was soft, softer than Alex had ever heard it, almost unrecognisable. "I don't know how I know it but I do."

"Maybe this will help." Reaching into her coat pocket, Alex pulled out the photograph that was so much smaller than the rest. The photograph of PC 6-6-20. Gene just stared at it, the haze and fog hanging over the dream in the back of his mind lifting and the terrible memory coming to the fore.

When he looked up, Alex saw the sadness and confusion in his eyes, as well as something else; an emptiness. Alex realised it was the same desperate look she had when she looked in her mirror. At that moment, she felt a sadness for Gene she had never felt before. Suddenly all the distrust, the mystery, Keats, none of it mattered to her. Gene needed her and she needed him. They were one and the same.

She placed her hand over his again. He was trembling a little and put up no resistance as she gently took the photos from him and placed them back in the envelope. Standing up, she took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"These are going back in the box, Gene. We'll deal with this tomorrow. It's been a long night and I think we both need some sleep."

Normally, Gene reflected, he'd be furious with her. She'd wheedled a deep personal truth out of him, made him bare his soul and now she just wanted to put it all back in the box and forget about it. Yet he could see in her face that she was deadly serious, they would deal with this tomorrow. Still holding her hand, he followed her out to the squad room, into his office, where she stopped in front of his desk.

"You do it," she said simply, handing him the envelope. He took it from her and placed it back in the box, hesitating for a second, before closing the lid and putting it in his pocket, as he had done back in 1980.

"Alex..."

"Shh, Gene," she whispered, moving towards him, never averting her gaze from his. His scent was intoxicating as her lips were touching distance from his. "Just take me home," she breathed, before capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

Gene responded instantly, the raw memories so recently evoked replaced with memories of earlier that evening, holding her, wanting her. His desire overcame him, pulling her tightly towards him, running his hands up her spine and into her hair. He never wanted to let her go, yet he wanted to do this right. Tearing his lips from hers, breathing hard, he somehow managed to regain his composure.

"I love you, Alex Drake."

Alex smiled, tears running down her face, as her heart broke for the man she loved, the man who'd never had a real chance at life but whose spirit had been too strong to simply fade away. Tomorrow she would cry for herself, for the daughter she knew she would never see again but right now, it was Gene she cried for. She buried her face in his chest, as her sniffs turned to sobs and Gene wrapped his arms around her.

When she eventually stilled, Gene gently rubbing her back, she looked up into his silvery blue eyes.

"I love you too, Gene."

Wrapping her arm around his waist, him throwing an arm across her shoulders, they left the station together and made their way back to Alex's flat. Tomorrow was another day, tonight, what was left of it, would be their own little part of paradise.

_Fin._

**A/N: Thank you very much to everyone who has read and reviewed, I really appreciate it. That really is it for this story, but thank you to everyone who has read and supported me. xx**


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